Battles involving Laws often started with a short exchange to gouge out the opponent's degree of Laws. Among them, similar to how Affinities adhere to mana, roots, and cores, there were weaker Laws than others. If one side held utter conviction and confidence, but skill or use was different, then the fights could turn into something completely different. A big disparity would turn it into a fraction of a normal length.
That was the reality that fundamentally described beings close to Level 70 and above. Battles became very different when one could handle powers that touched upon some sensitive Laws or Paths. One could also have wild and brutal strength to oppose it, as there were many ways to perceive the arts of killing or sheer power.
Waiting or gouging others was neither wrong nor right, as battles were essentially just a way to kill, obliterate, and deal with an opponent. For some, the means to do it didn't matter. Results did.
Ultium held his powers without any weapon. Even though his martial arts were kind of weak, David ensured he wouldn't be someone lacking basics. He taught him numerous styles to accommodate this focus. That was to find a good line between interest, compatibility, his heart, and way of blood.
Not every devil fought this way. Most carried weapons that benefited their Bloodline or Blood Shaping. Thus, there were many kinds of devils capable of wielding very distinct powers. Clans or some families could have unique techniques or powers etched into their lineage. Rarely, some even disregarded blood completely, opting to master their Physique, Martial Arts, or focused on some other powers or outside Paths that might be further away from devils. All of this was mostly subjective since the adhering Divides had their own ways of accommodating life, and life preferred to challenge them back.
Choices were confined around devils for one reason. They held some limits similar to many other ancient races. Their race depicted those bathed in the glory, grace, and terrific nature of the ancient Chaos. It was both great and poor in many forms.
Devil Bloodline carried strands of unchangeable chains, dreadful history, and emotions. All of which made them prone to the heart demons that would limit their choices that tinkered with each devil.
In a poor sense, talent or their hearts were those chains that decided their ways. It could be anything as long as it went well within their nature, and going close to them was always better. Then, there were the blood aspects and mana that were generally good or bad depending on the quality of their Bloodline and control.
For Ultium, it wasn't anything nasty, for he held the grace of devils lost in time.
Lawful fights didn't matter to him. Probing, or trying his luck was less than interesting. Start or finish, the foes and fools alike held their benefits and starts, and he had less need to think twice.
And before this squad from Inferno Legion, there were things he could and shouldn't do. For example, taking both hands out of his pocket would work better than being stubborn.
Yet he kept his left hand inside his pocket for no other reason other than simple desire. He decided to take them head-on with his right hand alone. Well, he had his legs too. All his limbs were long and flexible, and usually, his legs were strong and great tools in battles. Orcuns would agree.
Opposite him, the leader of this squad moved closer, brandishing his long sword that had particular curvature and notable sharpness. It had a reddened sheen of metal at the sharp edge and dense tip while the rest was metallic. The handle was long, enough for numerous thick hands. It had no guard; just cloth strips for better grip. Others beside this leader held similar blades, but smaller and with different handles.
Ultium didn't care about their weapons. Laws, in general, were something else, though he wondered what kind of loose bastards these guys were, and why they would come at him like that. One by one would be so much better for them because some would survive by fleeting.
If they came at him all at the same time, he couldn't hold back his heart or hands. It will turn livid. Unhinged. Like his smile that crept wider on his face.
Level 80 meant that his Major Thresholds were multiple and bashed onto his life. Those around Level 70 were manageable, even though 10 Levels was a massive difference above Level 50, and this significance moved thinner and thinner the higher the levels went.
That was the common sense that Ultium disregarded because of his heart. David disliked that fact. It made teaching tougher and a sense of danger or fear was extremely important for survival.
Having no shits to give was somewhat impressive, but not clever.
Ultium wasn't smart for sure, but he was definitely a genius in the middle of battle and his knack for getting his blood and heart boiling was more emphatic for him than some words. For a devil, that was essential.
Especially when David's name or race came into question and his heart got hurt. It always ended in these questionable demeanors or changes.
Level, grades, or power level held diminishing meanings when conviction and killing intent cracked some toys apart and broke this world's rule.
The mentality was also part of the spirit and fighting, so the surrounding knights wearing armor all noted Ultium and his sheer presence. Everyone's lifeline was one the thread between End and life.
Fear can move souls and flesh, and touch the same things.
Ultium wasn't sufficient against Extremes, but his instincts told him there was none ahead. Without any Voice or reason in this world left, he could only guess what was good about them.
They were military, so they were adhering to some rules or some bosses. They said it too. Ultium figured they should be very confident if they got so close to him. He would survive against Extremes for a while, so this group better go at him or he will yawn.
Nudging his feet to the ground, his lone right palm was steady. Unnaturally so. Killing the ones infinitely close to the Extreme Gates was rough and many Level 70s and 80s were simply too tough and similarly insane like him, so he wondered who these fools all wearing some silly helmets thought were insulting. This world won't ensure it. He wasn't even a Gifted, Wicked, or Blessed. He was just a devil tossed to a street and caught by a man.
Alas, he won't die that easily, and others won't do so either. That was the gist of those managing Laws, who were hard to kill most of the time. To do so needed something overpowering like complex eradication of the Lifeforce. Ultium did so against Carmilla and a separate head from the rest could not possibly think on its own.
He could kill the people who he needed to kill. That was what mattered. David ruled it as that. As a slayer, he got a new job, so forgetting the worries or the rest of his senses came later.
That was a rule and no chain. It set him free, giving him space and chances that few devils felt or trusted.
It was an outcome of living with David and in Hellscape for many years, so this squad better know what they unleashed. Lisa should get to know it too, but she was too busy flying and thinking for herself.
Killing them will only quench a bit of his heart and words better be forgotten. That was easy enough.
Ultium had an itch in his fingers to make his move because this group wasn't doing a thing. He waited and waited. Seconds lingered and his patience was boiling like those beats; the turmoil of his heart was endless. It was almost deafening, but he remembered David's voice and Lisa's rules. He didn't know why Lisa appeared next to David. It was strange if anything else. He wasn't one to get this far from such brief meetings, yet she gave him some very assertive impressions.
The one that David called Evil. Him, of all things. That was weird. He remembered that David never called anyone Evil besides her. And there were a lot of fucked up people in the Hellscape, let alone this world, temple, or Hell.
A devious smile crept on his face when the squad made their moves. They didn't attack but surrounded him like a dangerous animal.
Following their leader's movement, the rest of the squad brandished their weapons and determination.
Ultium couldn't tell their races or powers, but weapons were important tools for most Legions. They carried all sorts of faces and powers. There were mostly swords in their hands, but one had a spear and another held a long halberd. Those were just two longer-range tools at their disposal, and there was no obvious magic or bows or something else. Ultium had an advantage in this regard. He could fight at any distance.
But he had no armor, and those opposite to him had incredibly robust protection that looked expensive, protecting every inch of their bodies. They didn't look like Hunters for sure. They had their benefits of doubts, however, while their synchronized moves carried experience and order. They were deliberate and slow steps, which meant their hearts were about to stop beating, and killing without a shred of shame was next.
All of them were ready to kill him.
And there was no longer any ego set in place.
The leader of the squad had some regrets and felt nauseous. He was also nervous, but it wasn't visible. He barely moved a step at a time, but he long ago wanted to pounce at Ultium, similar to the rest of his men.
Pressure and battle already started and he failed dozens of times already in a simple battle of spirit. This was supposedly their fight for remedy and their experience should've made it easier. It failed them. The first to move will pick the rest of this fight apart, either regretting it or moving toward victory. One was easier than the other, and there were no good answers because the results followed the winners.
The leader no longer underestimated Ultium because the pressure he was releasing onto his whole squad was insane. A single devil almost forced them back without even trying to move.
It was true that there was not a single person among them that held a bigger level than Ultium, but it mattered a lot that there were ten of them and each followed some Laws, albeit only half of them were above Level 70.
Unfortunately, this battle was meant to be strange from the very beginning. Sword fights were out of place when the other party had nothing but a single hand and five fingers aiming at a dozen proper weapons. It was out of place, out of the norm, yet it was turning the tides before the storm.
A spear worked wonders at mid or long-range combos. Both long and with a sharp point, it held considerable flexibility that required a pair of arms. Even peasants could defeat a trained soldier because of it, or if the soldier had a dagger or simple sword, they could kill them from a safe distance away.
Wielders of the spear and halberd were sturdy and tall individuals. Wearing their armor shouldn't give them disadvantages, and they should be compatible with their weapons. They were certainly second strongest aside from their leader.
However, Ultium thought little, if nothing about their weapon choices. Daggers, swords, or massive spears often cracked and bent the same, turning to metallic pieces that briefly shined before becoming scraps. When none hit him any deeper than words hurting his pride and heart, it was arrogant and naive.
He knew that true masters obliterated this sort of concept, even if he wasn't wrong at the moment. Options carried flexibility, while masters of weapons hold diverse kinds of authority in this world. They were less tamable; less dependent on this world. Sure, capable equipment did lessen it to some degree, and the addition of those crazy boosts with attributes could change a lot of things. But at the core, a weapon was what mattered, and Paths were formed around them since the very beginning.
Masters carried focus and sheer will that went with their weapons. They shouldn't care for some mana if it wasn't necessary.
What was possible against this group could easily become impossible for the next ones Ultium shall meet.
Thus, Ultium simply waited for them to move forward first, or for their leader that was itching and hesitant to move. It was his bad habit. Waiting wasn't great.
The same choice came with Orcuns, who were nothing but burly knights that held lesser flexibility and no armor besides their flesh and some scraps for leather.
Knights of the Inferno Legion soon made a perfect encirclement, forming a circle with each member eying one of Ultium's vital points.
Each trained for this purpose, even if this practice was rare against a single devil. Among them, only half were confident to touch and hurt this devil, and even then, they weren't sure about themselves. A wrong move, and they were dead.
This team was cherry-picked squad by one of the brutish Overlords who was curious about Hunt and Murai's party. Mindarch accepted their group out of curiosity, and their talents weren't too tough. There weren't as many limits, but the military was something else when it came to Hunters and Levandis. Making some moves willy-nilly wasn't fine because wasting good members was costly. But they could form some private parties as long as there was a balancing rule ahead, and Mindarch believed this much wouldn't hurt anyone but one curious Overlord.
And running away was often a great choice.
He almost wished to speak and let them escape. Alas, he doubted it was even possible when they insulted Ultium's father figure.
There was an order for Hunt. Mindarch was pivotal when holding back or aiming or accepting Hunters. It wasn't even that hidden, as far as their balancing factors, badges, and stakes got accepted.
Those who would move without his blessing would be then killed and hunted by Hunters out of nothing but free respect for the End and Afterlife.
This meant that fewer issues came from unofficial Hunters because they didn't want to piss someone off.
Ten members of this Level should be a severe loss because they could give most Level 80 great challenges.
It was about experience. Anyone at this level was a force to reckon with. Razmund would agree like Ozeki or Luno. Before Ultium, this squad should work the best as a team, or... was it perhaps too much already?
The leader thought so, but when he wanted to approach Ultium and unleash his moves dozens of times, he stopped himself every time.
Always, something hit him. He already died in his mind, or was it a dream or some nightmare? It was the experience of battlefields that he was feeling.
This was no longer about some Hunt or Levels, let alone the prowess of his squad. This was a battle of life and death; the finest course for survival of the fittest.
Yet he didn't move even after knowing that he was wasting his heart. He didn't even gesture to his team to make their moves first and make amending sacrifices.
Thus, Ultium did something he should've done earlier. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and showed them something nice.
Round but slim, his badge carried redness and a black circle. “Wants this? If you keep on walking snail's steps around me, you won't get it?” Ultium taunted them, figuring that coping the way David often spoke wasn't that easy.
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Surprisingly, he hadn't butchered any words this time around. He almost put his fist in the sky, proudly feeling his accomplishment.
But his action provided its benefits.
The leader was Level 75, so in a normal sense, he should be reasonably close to Ultium, yet not like it mattered anymore. Death was looming over them all.
Numbers could carry their hearts for only so long and far.
None moved.
Ultium wondered if his words were weak or if his speech wasn't long enough. So he began tossing the badge up and down his palm which carried no redness. Most of the blood moved around his right arm, fingers, and dancing in wavering light and waves.
“Let me ask you something.” the leader said, sounding nervous even though he tried to fake his confidence.
“Questions denied.” Ultium thought this was the perfect haughty and arrogant answer.
Yet, the leader asked anyway. “Where have you been lost?”
Ultium frowned and caught his badge. “Where, huh? Here. Right now. There or here or there. Matters not right now.”
Ultium stepped closer, ending the perfect circle and initiating a change.
One of the least experienced knights made his move, pouncing straight at Ultium's back, lowering his center of gravity, and stabbing with his sword right at the spine. That should hinder movement, and perhaps help kill him. He doubted it was so easy, so he was fine sacrificing himself to gain his squad a chance.
That was commendable, even when Ultium didn't think of this in the slightest. He was never in the military, so he didn't get their ideals or appeals about sacrifices. He had David. It was different.
The pounce happened quickly, and the sword arrived even faster. Ultium turned his right arm aside, bent his knees, and lowered his body to an unnatural degree, catching the tip while swaying his hips and unleashing a flying kick at the helmet. A dull crash resounded, cracking the helmet a little, but it was far too sturdy so he didn't crash it, but the hit was big, and whatever was underneath got hurt.
He kicked this cheeky backstabber dozens of meters away, rendering this knight incapacitated for dozens of seconds in the slightest. The duration of this fight was hard to point out. It was not a kill, but that was fine. One down. Nine to go. The sword remained in his hand. He didn't want it, so he tossed it to the ground.
“Next.” Ultium tossed the badge again and there was no need for it anymore.
More steps echoed and true battle started.
Their armors was experimental equipment of mass-produced style for those within the Laws. They significantly boosted their bodies and protected many of their martial choices. Equipment worked like that quite well at this level, giving them some buffs, or even granting abilities if the equipment and their powers allowed it. Improvement was easily said when some Laws possessed quality within the equipment, so one could feel and make good use of them all the time. Wielder would always improve and feel them. That was the power of the equipment filled with precious materials and Laws, followed by accepted regard from the Will of the Battleworld that makers and wielders of these gifts carry.
Such tools added power, sustainability, and survivability. Military needed everything, while Ultium did not. His suit was enough and even if it wasn't some sturdy and thick defense, its focus tampered with him alone. It wouldn't be good if it was less flexible because its blood-related effects were way too good.
In a heartbeat and first clash, everyone was ready to unleash their moves, while their leader cowardly stopped himself again.
One of the knights moved, and in less than a second of his attack, another charged aside from him. It would be stupid if each attacked Ultium individually, allowing him to kill them like idiots one by one
Attacking simultaneously had its validity, even if pride, place, and certain striking limits had come next. If they storm him, a friendly fire might be possible, so for the start, only half of them stepped forward.
They served this Hell for all of their lives, so they had absolute confidence in their teamwork. They would laugh at their stupidity if they would take turns to fight against this monster. Be it in the Afterlife, Seventh Hell, or... Underworld? Beyondlife? Names or legends didn't matter much when fights mattered for them like Laws.
It was ridiculous. Ultium remained half-standing, pointing with his hand at the side that had a pair of swordsmen coming for his throat. Behind him was the spearman, aiming at his legs. On the other side, another swordsman wanted his arm or his badge.
“Interesting. Smart moves, but...” Ultium mumbled, storing his badge along with his arm in his pocket. His posture was odd, almost falling, but he was as stable as he could be. Then, he let his actions speak for himself.
There were some delays between their attacks. The first pair was quicker than the spearman or the one going for his left hand. But the pair held almost no difference in their timing, so they came like two sticks aiming for one target; his throat.
Ultium decided to solve them at the same time, but what if... all nine of them attacked at the same time?
Well, those worries were there since the start and became negligible. He won't give them this change, so he turned his right fingers toward that pair.
They didn't pull their attacks when he turned to them. Instead, they pushed even further at him, tightening their intent and swinging their weapons at his head.
Ultium took a quick breath before shifting his steps and flickering his palm. He stepped quickly like a shadow forward. With the back of his palm, he deflected the left sword while striking the other knight in the chest. Armor survived again, but against his reddened fingers, it bent inwards and the body behind the armor bled and shuddered, feeling these fingers like fingers of death.
Once more, one more foe went flying away. Just in time for the left one to strike him again, closer to the remaining ones.
Blood didn't flow. Their armor was tough to deal with when they didn't go for a kill. His fingers could be spears, but they wouldn't be too good without greater attention to Shaping, or weight. He used knuckles and punches instead, forcing those foes as far away as possible. Eight left to go, but they could get back to a fighting condition. Ultium wasn't sure how well his strike went anymore. He should be more savage like a slayer.
With one flying away, a sword came for Ultium's neck. Ultium sidestepped because others arrived at his side and back. He hid behind the swordsman, dodging the spear or attacks at his side.
Quite a few moves happened in the next few seconds across barely a few square meters. Ultium kept moving on his feet as if floating or moving in like the wind. His footwork was incredible, while his single right arm deflected or tried to grab swords or the fast spear aimed at his legs or chest. Neither penetrated his flesh, let alone David's gift.
When the next chance came, he struck for blood.
A pair of fingers clutched the sword aimed at his throat. He flexed it, hoping to crush it but failed. A spear came right away, followed by a terrific sword slash. He set his right foot up and kicked the spear. Then he bent, dodged a sword to his back, and head-butted the frontal foe. The man's helmet was tough, while Ultium had limited force because of his improper horns.
The foe fell to his knees, before stumbling backwards. Ultium had no doubts this one would be able to get to his feet within a few breaths. For the time being seven remained.
Which allowed the blood to flow. Ultium had a rare breath of half a second to unleash his move against the incoming spearman that went for his throat. They were savage strikes, quick stabs, and swipes. His point finger flickered in dense red liquid. He dropped to the ground, dodging the spear, and unleashed two Shots at those sturdy legs. Spearman screamed but still swung his weapon at his throat. Ultium stepped aside, dodging this threat by a hair, but the spear changed its trajectory. He was forced to deflect it with his fingers, which allowed two strikes to hit his back, leaving blood leaking and two lines around his suit's back.
He was livid.
Spearman unleashed a flurry of stabs, yet simple fingers crashed every strike as if they were even stronger. Ultium ended up halfway crouching. Looking ahead, he jumped straight at spearman's face after creating an opening with a punch.
“Drop... dead,” He released his fist, yet once again, the spearman changed his grip and moved his spear back. He was quick and deadly, but Ultium poised with his palm like a shield, deflecting the spear that seemed to flow like water.
Then he jumped on the spot, aiming a single point finger at the spearman's helmet. It had some holes for eyes, but the spearman noticed it shouldn't be enough and tried to dodge. He succeeded, but Ultium wasn't the only one with high flexibility and Dexterity. His hand moved even after more injuries hit his body. He made a hole with his finger into that sick helmet, sticking it inside, and unleashed his Shots. Splatters of brain and blood splurged in the helmet and some of them even leaked outside.
Six...well, more were left.
The helmet was still fine, forgetting the third hole, and blood was difficult to lock away. Ultium barely breathed for a second, and his movement was getting hard when surrounded by enemies. He paid the price for finishing this spearman. Two swords found their way to his back, stabbing deep. Blood flowed.
Ultium stood on his feet, eyed by the remaining foes. There were way too many left that were able to fight.
“Now, you've done it.” Ultium took another breath, right when the leader made his move. There was also that halberd user at the opposite end, but he had yet to move. Ultium long ago shattered their formations, so only half of them were able to fight Ultium in close combat at the same time.
“No, you.” the leader said. A large sword strike struck the heavens like a chop, coming at Ultium's face like heavenly punishment. Blood and mana fused, charming the edge and making it bigger, quicker, and more savage.
Ultium didn't flinch. He adjusted his neck, still feeling the swords inside of his back. It hurt. He didn't like pain. It didn't mean weakness, but he just didn't like it. It was a sensible preference.
Why didn't the rest of those fools make their move? He wondered if they were stupid. All of them could stab his back like a fine target right now. Ultium thought unnecessary questions when that chop came.
He lightly jumped back, adjusting his head and lower body to strike the long sword with his horns. It needed a specific awkward angle, but he succeeded with the price being more pain. A pair of swordsmen behind his back almost stopped his momentum. They pushed their swords deeper, hoping to kill him. They found it incredibly hard. At least they penetrated his black suit. They didn't know if it was Ultium's blood or the one stored within this Blood Suit.
Crisp metallic clash echoed, and chop failed to shed any blood. Ultium's move forced the swords deeper into his body, and his neck bent because of the force of this clash. He didn't care. Their leader stepped back in a similar backlash and it was almost wonderful that the sword was still in one piece.
Flexing his body to a stop, Ultium aimed at his next target. Swaying his upper body and right arm aside, he had his choice.
Behind him, two soldiers tried their best, but not for long, unfortunately.
Ultium swung his fist which suddenly exploded in red spikes, hitting both fools behind his back in one immense momentum. Like a savage spiked mace followed by a sweep, chunks of armor and helmet obliterated a skull. That happened to the first he hit. The second one survived because the first bumped into him, forcing him away. He was still good to go, although the force that went through his body made his heart boil and mind crack.
Swords flew out of Ultium's body right as he forced them away.
Five were left, more or less. Perhaps it no longer mattered.
The time and fools were still numerous. Another pair and their leader came to his side and unleashed their attacks at the same time. Halberd user was at the opposite side, swinging his weapon behind his head and waiting for a killing strike. He didn't strike yet for some reason. Ultium bet this was the perfect timing to kill him.
It was a true crisis.
Yet his heart was turning tides of adrenaline and something else all over his body. Steam went out of his skin, redness intensified, and Ultium smiled like a crazy devil. Surface disappeared from his mind and slaughter bore his blood. Or was it backward? His blood was savage enough and something in his heart broke or moved forward, or from depth.
“You are good.. Good.” He mumbled, red mist escaping his mouth.
Although he managed some kills, most attacks didn't manage to cause significant damage. The time was essential. Staling wasn't good, or so Lisa said. His enemies knew it too, and in their minds, waiting for Ultium to mend his wounds wasn't fine either.
He failed. Everyone did to some extent.
“Failure means learning, Ultium. It is a time for a change of tactics, my boy.” David's voice echoed in his mind, giving him advice on what to do next. It wasn't that device or him. Just a memory.
The redness skipped a beat around his finger, and Ultium formed an open palm before moving and flexing his fingers tighter than ever before. It was not a fist. It resembled a spearhead made out of his glinting bloody fingers. The red blood aura deepened. Sharp tips were fingers, rotations in red thin spikes like waves. It was blood. It was as if his hand turned into a fine spearhead or a chainsword that was cutting on its own.
Just in time. The leader and the rest attacked at the same time.
The first who struck was the halberd user who put forth a devastating swipe at the back of his head.
Ultium didn't see it, but he still dodged it by crouching, turning on the spot, and swiping at that knight. He defended with a gauntlet, meeting the red-finger spearhead. It became a mangled mash of metal and gore, and even pieces of bones were hard to distinguish from the metal.
A scream echoed under the helm, but the halberd user swung his weapon with a single grip, seizing this change to hit him once. It was too late. Ultium swung his arm up, turning this stab into a slash and cutting into the foe. The armor screeched when Ultium left a long crevice that wasn't deep enough. He even dodged the halberd by a simple twist of his feet.
He didn't care for this knight, for more attacks were coming right behind him and yet another sword found its way into his side. This time, Ultium grunted, turned, and flashed his single arm as if there was a fly. He penetrated that cheeky knight, cracking that sword and armor alike. His spear went straight at the head, going deep and killing him outright. Halberd arrived again, barely finding a way into his flesh. It still shed the blood, damaging his suit.
Ultium was slowly turning furious with these numerous attackers who didn't regard this gift at all. It was as he expected and imagined from a Hunt.
He heard stories. Legends.
He was experiencing it right now. He was the experience.